


Stick

by Beguile



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Caning, Gags, M/M, Rope Bondage, stick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24372712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beguile/pseuds/Beguile
Summary: Red likes the stick. Must be the sting he’s after.Written for Fratt Week. PWP. One-shot.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Comments: 8
Kudos: 83
Collections: Fratt Week





	Stick

* * *

Red likes the stick. Thinner the better. Must be the sting he’s after, something sharp and scalding instead of the ache from a punch. Frank wraps the first one in leather thinking that’ll be the ticket, but they wear the switch down to the wood and Red just likes it more. Likes those long tracts of red and purple Frank leaves on his skin. And Frank likes them too, likes watching Red take a hit, likes watching him shake and shiver and get back up, ready to take another.

They use restraints for the hell of it. Not like Red to get up and walk away, not when he’s having fun, not when Frank’s having fun with him. Getting him trussed up lets Frank hit new places and gives Red something to pull against while the pain eats at him. There’s the added bonus of seeing how far he’ll go, how much he’ll bend, what parts of himself he’ll put into Frank’s hands, what he’ll put in Frank’s line of fire. There are unspoken rules, places Frank doesn’t like hurting. The switch never goes above Red’s shoulders, and while Frank’ll drag the tip over his groin, he’d never swing a blow there.

Everywhere else is fair game.

Frank never starts in the same area twice. He goes for the shoulders the first time because they’re there. Red’s wrists are tied behind his back, he’s kneel on the floor. The stick, still covered in leather at this point, rests on his collarbone before that first swing. The next time, Frank puts Red’s hands overhead and goes for his back, snapping the stick across Red’s skin until he’s scraped scarlet. The leather unwinds, and Frank ties it off for the third time, when Red’s slung over the arm of his couch, his pert little ass on full display. Frank’s swinging takes on new speed and vigor, and that’s when the leather goes, when he learns how good the wood really is. Watching Red squirm against the ropes, grunting into the couch cushions, his ass and thighs turning purple, the flecks of blood gleaming in the billboard light.

Next time, Frank puts Red over his knees for it, and the stick’s too long to get good momentum, but the frustration sweetens everything in the end: makes Red more bratty, goading Frank on with chuckles and, “You call that a swing, Frank?” Makes Frank rage and snap the switch at Red’s calves and ankles, leaving little welts on him like shackles. Red’s gagged the next time and Frank makes him pay for all the smartass remarks by folding him in half, binding wrists to ankles, while his ass gets whipped so hard and so fiercely that his balls take a few hits in the process. Frank sticks around the morning after, partly to make sure Red doesn’t dehydrate himself from lying in bed, partly to appreciate the sight of Red unable to move, blissed out from being had so utterly and Frank blissed out, in turn, from the having.

The blows soften so gradually neither of them really notices. Frank finds it’s more fun to tease him. Red’s so keyed into getting hit that when it doesn’t happen, he’s riled. Goosebumps shoot across his arms. He shifts in his bonds. He grinds and growls, and Frank refuses – _refuses_ – to give him the swing. That stick crawls along Red’s back, around his hips, over his legs. It taps lightly against his chest and cheek, and Red nuzzles it like a cat, desperate, and Frank teases him, “You want that? This what you want, Red?” He even swings it, gets that cut of air around the switch, that whistle going; he watches the way Red tenses up, and then he watches Red dissolve when the switch stops just above his skin. Watches Red tear at the bonds when the he’s being caressed by the thing he wants to break him.

Frank’s got Red on top of him. Red’s all tied up – wrists lashed behind his back, ankles to thighs – so all he can do is enjoy the ride as Frank bucks into him from below. He’s so lost in the sensation that he doesn’t hear the stick coming out from where its hiding in the covers at Frank’s side. He doesn’t notice until Frank’s slung the stick across his own thighs and drawn it right up, gently but insistently, against Red’s ass.

Red’s back tenses. He seizes up. He releases a little whine that he bites back quickly. “This what you want?” Frank asks him. Red can’t answer with much more than a moan from his smart little mouth, but that’s good enough for Frank.

The tension holds through Red’s back and shoulders, through his ass. Frank’s the one groaning suddenly, the tightness of Red compelling him to buck harder, pump faster, but not being able to find the strength with how hard he is. He tugs his arms forward, drawing the stick even tighter across Red’s ass, and that’s when he feels motion. Red’s bounds hands shoving themselves under the stick, his fingers clamping down hard on it. Frank adjusts so that his fingers touch Red’s, and the two hold onto that stick for dear fucking life until they finish.

* * *

Happy Reading!


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